The Carter Journals Page 2

  Edward? Who was Edward? “I’m not Edward, ma’am. My name is Cody,” Cody replied.

  “Cody is it, you say now?” the woman answered. “Well, your father Edward Sr. will be most disappointed to hear that. I suggest you come to your senses and tend to your chores before he gets back from the fields, Edward!” she said impatiently.

  Cody was completely confused now. Had he even awakened this morning at all? Was this just another of his dreams? He decided not to push it any further and to play along until he woke up for real. “Yes, ma’am. What chores need to be done, exactly?” Cody inquired.

  “The wood needs splittin’, of course. Don’t you remember your pa telling you before he left?” she replied.

  “Oh, yeah. I guess I was too wrapped up in my journal and sort of lost track of time. I will get right to it,” Cody answered.

  “See that you do. If your pa comes back and sees that pile of unsplit wood out there, it will be your hide he’ll be tannin’,” she said.

  Cody—or was it Edward?—headed outside and found a large pile of logs with an axe leaning against it. His chore was clear, and it wasn’t the kind of work he was used to, although he had helped his grandpa split some wood in Tennessee before, just enough to know it was not going to be easy.

  He took a good long look at his surroundings. Cody realized he had actually been here before. He and his family had vacationed in the Outer Banks of North Carolina a couple of times, and he had visited the historic little village of Beaufort. Much of it here looked the same, except it was not nearly as big and spread out. As he looked around, he realized that, at this point, it wasn’t “Historic Beaufort.” It was just Beaufort.

  The Carters’ little house sat aways out of town, but Cody could look out over the town and see the little port where the fishing boats docked. He remembered taking a boat tour in Beaufort and seeing dolphins swimming around right near the town. He wondered if there were dolphins down there now. Looking across the channel, he saw an island. Cody remembered that there were wild horses on that island that were descendants of the ones that had come to America with the Spanish explorers. He felt an odd comfort that they must be there now too, at least something a little familiar in this strange situation.

  As he gazed at the little town in the distance, trying to get his bearings and make sense out of all this, Cody remembered his chore and set out to get it done. He picked up one of the logs and set it on its end on a level spot of ground. He grabbed the axe and took aim at the center of the log cut. THWACK. The axe found its mark, and the log cracked open and fell into two halves. Cody felt a sense of pride at his accomplishment. “That wasn’t so tough,” he boasted. Then he looked at the large pile of logs that remained to be split. “I have a feeling that by the time I get to the bottom of that pile, I won’t be so cocky,” he said to himself. With determination and a little dread, he reached for another log and continued his task.

  The afternoon light was beginning to fade when Cody picked up the last log. He calculated that he had been at it for at least two hours. His hands were sore and red, and little blisters were beginning to form on them. He heard a man’s voice calling. “Edward, how is the splittin’ comin’ along? I allowed you’d be done before now.”

  Cody looked up and saw a large man walking toward him, evidently from a long day of working in the fields. That must be Edward’s dad, he thought. “I got a bit of a late start, but I am just about finished now,” he said.

  Edward Carter Sr. looked down at the boy with a bit of a devilish smile. “And what, might I ask, delayed you?” he asked.

  Cody was a little nervous. He wondered just what kind of a father he was dealing with here. Was he in trouble? Had Elizabeth Carter been joking or serious when she made that hide tanning remark? He decided he had better play it straight and take his chances. “I was writing in my journal, sir. I lost track of the time.”

  “Well, now, a journal is a fine thing, and I am right proud of you for takin’ it on, but an oil lamp is a fine thing for writin’ once the sun goes down, that is. The good Lord provides us daylight for splittin’ wood,” Edward Sr. replied.

  Cody was relieved that he didn’t seem to be in for a “hide tannin’.” Edward Sr. seemed to be a fair kind of father, much like his own usually was. “Yes, sir,” Cody replied. “I will keep that in mind.”

  “Very well, then. Let’s get washed up for supper, and after we eat, I will tell you a tale that you will surely want to put in your journal. It’s about the time when you were two years old and met the famous pirate Blackbeard, right here in Beaufort,” Edward Sr. said.

  Well, this should be interesting, thought Cody, as he followed Edward Sr. into the house for supper.

  As he sat down at the little table in the kitchen, Cody’s head was swimming with questions that he could not ask. He realized that he had to play the part of Edward Carter Jr., but he wondered how long this was going to last. When would he wake up, or be transported back to his bedroom…or would he? There were just too many possibilities for him to even consider. This seemed way too real to be a dream. In a way, Cody hoped that it was not a dream because it was certainly a fantastic trip. He only feared the uncertainty of it all. He longed to know how this would all play out.

  The table was set with a lovely spread of food. There were green beans, potatoes, corn bread, and some sort of meat that looked like roast beef. “We are nearly out of venison,” Elizabeth said, looking at Edward Sr.

  “Well, now, Junior and I will have to see to that little problem tomorrow, won’t we, son?” he replied.

  Cody knew that venison was deer meat. He had actually gone deer hunting with his dad in Indiana, but he had never succeeded in killing one yet. The idea of going deer hunting with Edward Sr. excited him.

  “Yes, sir, Pa,” Cody replied. It felt more than a little strange saying that. First of all, he had never called anyone Pa before, and secondly, this wasn’t really his father. But Cody was starting to get into this role.

  The food was very good, and Cody stuffed himself, having worked up quite a big appetite from all that wood splitting. He was looking forward to hearing the Blackbeard story. He remembered seeing something about Blackbeard in a maritime museum when he had been in Beaufort. Could it really be that one of his relatives actually met this infamous pirate?

  A woodcut of Captain Teach, alias Blackbeard. Blackbeard is shown wearing clothing similar to that described by Edward Carter Jr.’s father. (Daniel Defoe, The History and Lives of all the Most Notorious Pirates and Their Crews, 4th ed. [London, 1732].)

  After the supper dishes were washed and put away, Cody and Edward Sr. went into the main room of the little house. Edward Sr. sat in a wooden rocking chair and lit his pipe. Cody sat on the stool in front of the slant-topped desk. He was not sure how eager to appear. He decided to let Edward Sr. start the conversation, even though he was dying to ask about Blackbeard.

  The room filled with the rather strong aroma of pipe smoke. Cody wanted to say something about the dangers of smoking, but stopped himself. This guy has been dead for over two hundred years. A little pipe smoke won’t hurt him, he thought to himself, a wry little smile crossing his lips at this amusing notion. A moment later, Edward Sr. finally began to speak. “Well, I guess you are waitin’ for a story, eh?” he said.

  “Yes, sir. Did I really meet Blackbeard?” Cody replied.

  “As sure as I live and breathe my boy, though you were a might too young to remember,” said Edward Sr. “The year was 1718. You would have been just about two years old. Blackbeard had been in command of his ship Queen Anne’s Revenge for about a year or so. Oh, he was a rascal, he was. His ship had forty guns mounted to her, and he had a crew, they say, of about three hundred men. They were sailing up and down the coast of North and South Carolina just pillagin’ and plunderin’ up a storm. Why, just the week before he came to Beaufort, he and his crew blockaded the port of Charles Towne. They held that whole town for ransom and got away with a sight of booty, too!�
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  Cody sat in rapt attention as Edward Sr. continued.

  “Once they left Charles Towne, they sailed north and into Topsail Inlet, right here in Beaufort. They ran the Queen Anne’s Revenge aground on one of those little sandbar islands out there. Blackbeard left most of his men marooned out there and with a few others came into Beaufort on a small boat. They were needin’ some supplies and came lookin’ for the mercantile. Well, that is right where I happened to be, and I just happened to be totin’ you at my side. I was twenty years old then and was just gettin’ our little farm off the ground. I was tryin’ to establish a line of credit at the mercantile, and you were tryin’ to talk me into buyin’ you a stick of hard candy, as usual. I heard a commotion outside the door, and then I saw him, the famous Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard, the pirate.”

  Cody was literally on the edge of his seat, so much so that had to catch himself from tipping forward and falling over. “What did he look like?” he asked.

  “Let me tell you, he was the kind of feller that you don’t forget. He was fearsome lookin’. He was tall, but he gave you the impression that he was even taller. His clothes were eye catchin’. He wore black leather boots all the way up to his knees. He had dark clothes except for a brilliant, bright crimson coat. At his sides were two menacin’ looking swords, and across his chest stretched bandoleers stuffed plumb full with pistols and knives. On his head sat a wide-brimmed black hat, and under that hat was long jet-black hair. Legend has it that he used to tuck cannon fuses under that hat and light them just before doin’ battle so that he would look even more frightful. But his most strikin’ feature was on his face—his black beard. It was somethin’ to behold! It was long and black and he had it braided into several pigtails with little shiny red ribbons tied in them. Blackbeard didn’t have to say a word to get noticed. Just the sight of him walkin’ into a room would make folks stand at attention and make the hair stand up on the backs of their necks.”

  As Edward Sr. finished his vivid description of Blackbeard, Cody thought he felt the hair bristle up on the back of his own neck. The idea of pirates had always seemed like it was from some fictional book or movie, but here he was sitting across the room from a man who was eyewitness to the most notorious pirate of them all. “So what did Blackbeard do when he walked into the store?” Cody asked.

  “Well, there is where the story sort of loses a bit of drama,” replied Edward Sr. “He walked up to the counter and explained to the storekeeper that he needed some provisions for his crew. He listed off what he needed and waited there while his order was filled. While he was standin’ there, he introduced himself to me as Edward Teach, and I told him our names and we shook hands. He reached down and tousled your hair and remarked about what a fine, strappin’ lad you were. So there we all were just standin’ around, three Edwards, one of us a notorious pirate, one of us a frightened and awestruck young farmer, and one of us was you.”

  Edward Sr. paused for a long moment to relight his pipe. “What happened then?” Cody asked impatiently.

  “Not much, really,” replied Edward Sr. “The shop-keep brought all the goods to the front of the store, and Blackbeard paid him in gold coins, bowed and tipped his hat, and walked back out the door. If a feller didn’t know any better, they would have thought he was a gentleman.”

  “You mean he didn’t steal anything?” Cody asked.

  “Nope. I reckon he saved all his plunderin’ for the high seas!” replied Edward Sr. with a chuckle. “It was just later that same year that ol’ Blackbeard reached his end. He had sailed on up the coast here aways and made his home base on Ocracoke Island. Well, he was hunted down by a British vessel commanded by a man by the name of Maynard. Maynard planned a little surprise for ol’ Mr. Blackbeard, and he and his men overtook their vessel. Maynard shot Blackbeard in the skirmish and wounded him badly. Some of Maynard’s men finished him off. They cut ol’ Blackbeard’s head off and ran it up one of the sail masts for the whole world to look at. They threw the rest of him overboard, and they claim his headless body swam around the boat for a while before sinkin’ to the bottom.” Edward Sr. sat back, apparently finished with his tale.

  Cody could hardly believe what he had heard. Even though it had been an exhilarating tale, he felt himself beginning to get a bit sleepy. It had been a pretty eventful day, to say the least. He turned and glanced at the journal that still lay open on the desk. He reached for it and closed the cover. As he did so, a curtain seemed to open before his eyes. He felt that same strange swimming sensation in his head and butterflies in his stomach. After a moment where he seemed to black out, Cody opened his eyes and found himself back in his own bedroom in Indianapolis. He glanced back at the journal and saw that it was opened to a page where young Edward Carter had written of meeting Blackbeard when he was two years old.

  Chapter 2

  Cody did not know what to make of the situation. What had just happened? He had pretty much ruled out a dream. Was it a hallucination? Perhaps it was something he ate, or maybe he was coming down with something. Cody was sure there must be some reasonable explanation. He could not possibly have just gone through what it seemed he had gone through. He decided it would be best if he took a little break from journal reading.

  Later that evening, after a mediocre supper of leftover spaghetti, Cody excused himself to his bedroom. He was surprised to find himself dealing with a case of nerves. Why am I so nervous? he thought. I am only going to read an old journal. Yet he could not shake the overwhelming sense of uncertainty about what had happened earlier when he read that journal. For a moment, he thought he might lose his spaghetti, but he was able to calm himself enough to sit down in front of the old, leather-bound book. There had to be a simple explanation to whatever it was he had experienced earlier today—and besides, when he really stopped to think about it, it had been pretty cool, after all.

  Cody took a deep breath and used his index finger to peruse the page and find where he had left off. “There. Blackbeard’s death. That is where I stopped,” he whispered nervously. With all the determination he could muster, Cody began to read on…

  It was early the next morning, still dark outside, when I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder, giving me a nudge…

  As Cody read these words on the yellowing page, he realized it was happening again. He felt the swimming sensation in his head, the roller-coaster butterflies in his stomach, and the dark spinning mine shaft, all just like it happened earlier. This definitely was no dream, and it must not be a hallucination, either. The next thing he knew, Cody’s eyes were fluttering open, and he felt a hand gently nudging his shoulder to wake him. “Edward, son, get up. We need to be gettin’ after some game. Come now, I have our guns ready. Get dressed and let’s go,” said Edward Sr.

  Even though he had just been wide awake in his bedroom, Cody now felt the extreme grogginess of being jostled awake in the pre-dawn darkness. He sat up in his bed, noticing it had a strange feel. The mattress was soft and saggy, as though it was a huge pillowcase stuffed with straw. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and his feet found the floor. He looked under the bed and saw that his impression of his mattress appeared to be accurate. The mattress was sitting on top of a bed frame that had ropes criss-crossed and stretched tightly to act as a net to hold the mattress. This would take some getting used to, thought Cody.

  Still groggy, Cody tried to make sense of what was happening. Edward Sr. had said something about going after game. What game? Oh, yes, thought Cody, the deer hunt. Remembering that Edward Sr. had told his son they would be going after a deer to replenish the family’s meat supplies helped snap Cody awake and filled him with excitement. Maybe I will finally get to shoot a deer, Cody thought, but then he wondered if that would actually count, since it was in this fantasy world, or whatever this place was.

  Edward Sr. had laid some clothes on the foot of the bed for his son to put on. “Where is the camo?” Cody asked.

  Edward Sr. looked puzzled. “Wh
at do you mean?”

  “Camouflage clothes,” replied Cody. “We aren’t just wearing our normal work clothes, are we?”

  “Son, you must still be sleepin’, for yer talkin’ plumb nonsense!” replied Edward Sr.

  Cody realized that hunters in this time must not have worn camouflage clothing. He decided he had better drop it. “Yeah, I guess I must have been having a strange dream when you woke me up,” he replied.

  “It must’ve been a whopper. I’ve never heard ye spout such gibberish!” replied Edward Sr. as he grabbed up two long rifles and headed out to the front porch. Cody quickly got dressed and joined him.

  “Looks like it’s goin’ to be a fine mornin’ fer a hunt,” said Edward Sr. “With this west wind, I believe we’d be better off goin’ over near the spring and sittin’ up on the little rock ledge that looks out to the west. The deer always come around there this time of year, and the wind will be in our faces and the sun at our backs. I’ll wager we won’t have to sit too long this mornin’.”

  “Sounds good,” replied Cody. Edward Sr. led the way, and Cody tried hard to stay right in his tracks. He was impressed at how silently the large man could move through the woods. Edward Sr. seemed to be able to feel his way through the darkness of the early morning. The sandy ground helped to reduce the noise of their footfalls. They had walked in near silence for about ten minutes when Edward Sr. stopped. He turned and motioned for Cody to sit next to him on top of a sand dune that rose gently on one side and then dropped steeply for about twenty feet. Looking down from this height at the moonlit forest floor reminded Cody of the other time he had gone deer hunting, only then he had been sitting on a seat mounted atop a ladder stand, not on a sand dune.